Category: English

The video call was grainy, but the terror in Harrison’s eyes was crystal clear. His “Golden Girl”—his perfect ex, Isabelle—had barely been back in the country for forty-eight hours before she was snatched. The kidnappers weren’t just asking for thirty million in cash. They wanted a trade. They wanted me. I pointed at my own chest, genuinely baffled. Why would a group of professional criminals want a girl like me? I was a nobody, a girl from a backwoods town with no pedigree and no social standing. But then I heard Harrison’s voice, thick with a jagged, desperate kind of pain. “I’m sorry, Sera. I can’t let anything happen to Isabelle.” Before I could process the betrayal, his security detail moved in. A sharp blow to the back of my head sent the world spinning into black. When I woke up, I was in the hands of monsters. I watched through heavy eyelids as Harrison traded me like a piece of currency, his arms wrapped around an unconscious Isabelle as he turned his back on me without a second glance. He carried her away like she was a fragile treasure, leaving me in the dirt. Once the sound of his engine faded into the distance, the leader of the group set up a tripod. He started unbuckling his belt, his eyes roaming over me with a predatory hunger. I looked around the abandoned warehouse, my voice steady despite the situation. “Is Harrison gone? Are they all really gone?” The man laughed, a wet, ugly sound. “Not a soul for miles, sweetheart. You must have really pissed off the wrong people to end up as a sacrificial lamb.” As his hand reached out to touch my face, I finally let out a long, weary sigh of relief. “Good,” I whispered. “They’re gone.” In a blur of shifting bone and scales, I shed my skin. Within seconds, a massive white python—thick as an old-growth oak—coiled where a girl had been. I didn’t give him time to scream. I opened my jaws and swallowed him whole. his crew stood frozen, their bravado evaporating into whimpers. I didn’t give them a head start. One by one, I picked them off like grapes until the warehouse was silent. 1 I let out a soft, satisfied burp. I didn’t shift back into my human form immediately; instead, I lay there in the dust, basking in the rare sensation of a full belly and a quiet mind. I hadn’t been my true self in years—not since I met Harrison. My mother had warned me since I was a hatchling: never eat the humans. If you do, you’ll either be struck down by the heavens or caught by a Hunter. My aunt had made the mistake of consuming a man who possessed a “purple aura”—a mark of destiny—and she ended up bottled in a Hunter’s cellar, steeping in medicinal wine. After that, our clan retreated into the deep forests. It was only in the last few decades that we dared to venture out again. My mother insisted that the world had changed; she said being illiterate was the new death sentence. So, she sent me to school as soon as I could hold a human shape. I discovered that I loved human food. By the time I moved from my rural county to the city for university, I realized the world was a buffet of flavors I’d never dreamed of. That was where I met Harrison. The first time we locked eyes, he stared at me for what felt like an eternity. I didn’t know then that it was because I shared a fifty-percent resemblance to the woman who had broken his heart. All I knew was that he pursued me with a frantic, almost obsessive energy. My roommates were envious. Harrison was the city’s most eligible bachelor—handsome, obscenely wealthy, and miraculously scandal-free. They told me to grab the opportunity with both hands. But I didn’t care about the flowers or the designer jewelry he sent. I returned every gift, untouched. Instead, I took a job as a server at a high-end hotel. My appetite was expensive, and I’d blown through my semester’s living expenses in two months. When I called my mother, she told me she was broke and that I needed to figure it out. “You’re a grown woman now, Sera,” she’d hissed over the phone. “If you want to live among the humans, learn to earn your own keep.” Useless old woman. Hundreds of years old and not a cent in savings. So, I worked the hotel shifts. I’d read online that hotel staff could sometimes sneak the leftovers from the banquet halls. It seemed like the perfect plan: get paid and get fed. I was in a private suite, devouring a tray of untouched lobster tails and prime rib, when Harrison walked back into the room. I froze, a giant lobster claw halfway to my mouth. He stared at me in silence for a long moment, and then, to my surprise, he laughed. “Sera,” he said, his voice soft. “Let me take you to dinner.” It was the first time anyone had ever offered to feed me. He took me to a five-course gala. He watched, mesmerized and slightly terrified, as I cleared every plate on the table. His hand trembled slightly as he set down his scotch. “I had no idea you were so… hungry.” He paused, a strange look in his eyes. “But I can afford to keep you full. Sera, move in with me. I’ll make sure you never have to work a shift again. You can eat whatever you want, on my tab.” 2 The moment he said those words, Harrison became the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I wiped my mouth, unable to resist the lure of a lifetime supply of gourmet meals. “Fine. Deal.” I moved out of the dorms and into a sprawling estate Harrison bought for me. He hired two professional chefs who prepared a feast every single night. I called my mother while gnawing on a roasted duck leg. “Mom, look! I have a boyfriend. He bought me a house, and he covers all the catering. I’m retired.” My mother sounded skeptical. “Sera, are you sure you aren’t being scammed? Humans don’t just give away free food.” I pulled a perfectly clean bone from my mouth. “I don’t think so. He’s great. Room, board, and a huge monthly allowance. He’s way more generous than you ever were.” “Watch yourself,” she muttered. “Men have hidden faces. If things get dangerous, you shift and you run. Understand?” “I’ve got it under control,” I said, waving her off. The sunlight caught the diamonds on my new bracelet, nearly blinding her through the screen. She squinted. “He bought that too?” I nodded. A look of realization dawned on her face. “Sera… you’re a kept woman. He’s ‘maintaining’ you.” “Maintaining?” I tilted my head, trying to find the right human term. “Is that like being a pet? Like a… domestic animal?” I wasn’t sure. I was a snake. Being “maintained” sounded a bit weird, but being “fed and housed” made perfect sense for a predator of my stature. “Whatever it is,” my mom said, “if he’s giving you that much money, Venmo me a few hundred. I just learned how to use Amazon, and I need some gardening supplies.” It was pathetic how poor she was after four centuries. I transferred ten thousand to her account. “Spend it. Let me know when you need more.” She practically teared up. “My daughter, the success story.” For four years, I lived a life of pampered luxury. There were rumors at the university about my “arrangement,” but Harrison shut them down by publicly declaring me his girlfriend. He treated me well, so I tried to be a good partner in return. Two years ago, Harrison’s business rivals kidnapped him. I tracked them to an old cannery and took them out single-handedly. His right hand had been crushed in the struggle. To heal him, I exhausted nearly all my spiritual essence—the energy that allowed me to keep my human form. I barely managed to drag him to safety before I felt my skin start to itch and tighten. Luckily, he was unconscious. He never saw me revert to the twenty-foot monster that I was. If he had, he would have been horrified. Now, lying in the dirt of the warehouse, I thought back to a few weeks ago. Harrison had taken me to a high-society gala, claiming he wanted to finally introduce me to his inner circle. I remembered the way they looked at me when I entered the room—like I was a cheap knockoff in a designer dress. They didn’t even try to hide their whispers. “I told you Harrison couldn’t get over Isabelle. Look at that face. It’s a mirror image.” “She’s a total rube, though. No class. Isabelle had grace. This girl looks like she’s just happy to be invited.” “Isabelle is coming back next month. I wonder how fast he’ll dump the placeholder.” I didn’t understand all their metaphors, but I understood the venom. Harrison’s face had darkened. “That’s enough. Sera is my guest. If anyone has a problem with her, they have a problem with me.” The room went quiet, but the atmosphere remained cold. Later, while Harrison was distracted, a woman in a gown that cost more than my first car cornered me near the restrooms. “Don’t get comfortable,” she sneered. “You’re a distraction. A way for him to spite Isabelle for leaving. When the real thing comes home, the counterfeit gets tossed in the trash.” 3 I blinked at her, unfazed. “Who is Isabelle?” The woman gasped, her voice hitting a shrill note. “You don’t even know? Typical.” She took great pleasure in explaining it to me. Isabelle was the childhood sweetheart. The “Golden Girl.” The only woman Harrison had ever truly loved. They’d had a massive falling out, she’d moved to Paris, and Harrison had been a ghost of a man until he found me. “He only chose you because you look like her,” the woman finished, looking me up and down with disgust. “Learn your place.” I felt a strange, sharp pang in my chest. I remembered the nights Harrison would get drunk and pull me close, whispering “Isa” into my hair. I had thought it was a pet name. Now I knew it was just a different name entirely. A month later, Isabelle actually returned. Harrison became a different person. He was distracted, distant. He would stare at his phone for hours, ignoring the feasts I’d prepared. I sat across from him one night, my chin in my hands. “Do you miss her? Isabelle?” I’d spent the week listening to his friends tell stories about them. How he’d skipped school for her. How he’d fought his parents to be with her. How he’d flown her to the Maldives for her twenty-first birthday. His entire youth had been a monument to her. Harrison froze, then shook his head. “Don’t talk about her. That’s over. It’s just you and me, Sera.” He blocked her number. He declined the parties where she’d be present. He acted like a man made of stone, refusing to see her. Until the news broke that she had been taken. Harrison’s composure shattered. He pushed me aside so hard I nearly fell, sprinting out of the house screaming her name. When the ransom video arrived, showing Isabelle tied to a chair, pale and trembling, Harrison looked like he was the one being tortured. The kidnappers’ voice was distorted, demanding the money and—specifically—me. “The choice is yours, Mr. Sterling. Which one matters more?” Harrison let out a choked sound, his fist slamming into the mahogany desk. “It’s the rivals from two years ago. They’re back for blood.” He looked at me, his eyes bloodshot and foreign. “I’m sorry, Sera. I can’t let her die.”

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After the college entrance exam scores were released, I, who ranked second in the whole school, resolutely jumped from a high building. Just because the night before the exam, Mia Song told me she had mind-reading skills, could not only know all my answers, but also score exactly one point higher than me. I didn’t believe in superstition, didn’t think about anything during the exam, but when checking answers after the exam, Mia Song recited my answers fluently backwards. After the scores were out, she suppressed me by a difference of one point, snatching the last quota for Tsinghua and Peking University. She patted my pale face, smiling smugly. “Chloe Su, a low-class bumpkin like you, still delusionally wants to change fate through the college entrance exam? Hurry up and die with your short-lived parents!” I, who didn’t get the Tsinghua and Peking University scholarship, watched helplessly as my seriously ill parents passed away, then jumped from the building with despair. But before dying, I didn’t understand why Mia Song could know all my answers and score exactly one point more than me? Could there really be mind-reading in this world? Opening my eyes again, I returned to the eve of the college entrance exam. This time, I definitely won’t lose again! 1 “Tomorrow is June 7th, the national college entrance exam will kick off…” Listening to the voice from the TV, I woke up with a start. June 7th, college entrance exam? Didn’t I already take it? Not only took it, but also ended up with my family broken and dead. After confirming the time repeatedly, I discovered with surprise that I was reborn! Reborn on the day before the college entrance exam! All nightmares haven’t happened yet. Excited, I wept with joy, but soon I received that message that made me break out in a cold sweat. The sender was my classmate Mia Song. She said: “Chloe Su, although you have always been first in the grade and the only person in the whole school with hope of getting into Tsinghua and Peking University. But believe it or not, I have mind-reading skills. During the two days of the college entrance exam, I will not only know the answers to all your test questions, but also accurately control it, scoring one point higher than you!” In my previous life, I scoffed at receiving this text message. Relying on her family having some money, Mia Song always bullied poor students like us. Also because my grades were good, she hated me exceptionally, always tripping me up. This text message was probably just her playing tricks, wanting to disturb my mood. But unexpectedly, when checking answers after the first day of exams, Mia Song actually recited the answers to all my multiple-choice questions fluently backwards, even counting my composition materials used in the Chinese exam as her own treasures. I was shocked at the time, but Mia Song pulled the corner of her mouth sarcastically: “Told you I have mind-reading skills, why didn’t you believe it?” I really didn’t believe anyone in this world could read minds, so the next day I held my breath, emptied my head, and wrote all steps on paper. But unfortunately, when checking answers again, Mia Song’s answers were completely identical to what I wrote down. She deliberately sighed: “Chloe Su, you were very tangled writing the last big physics question, almost made me have no time to finish writing.” This time, I completely collapsed. But the desperate thing happened after the scores were released. Mia Song, who had always had poor grades, not only scored 700 points like me, but also scored exactly one point higher than me. It was this one-point difference that made me lose the opportunity to be admitted to Tsinghua and Peking University, which also meant the school would not give me that huge Tsinghua and Peking University scholarship. And my parents waiting in the hospital for me to bring life-saving money also passed away in despair. I watched helplessly as my parents were pushed into the morgue. Turning my head, I saw Mia Song’s smug face. She patted my bloodless face and said with a smile: “Chloe Su, a low-class bumpkin like you, still delusionally wants to change fate through the college entrance exam? Hurry up and die with your short-lived parents!” “Don’t curse me in your heart. I know all the thoughts in your heart clearly. Including, that little secret of yours unknown to others…” Mia Song leaned over and spat out the deepest secret I pressed in the bottom of my heart word by word in my ear. My spirit completely collapsed. In despair, I came to the top floor of the hospital and jumped down with all thoughts gray. Fortunately, heaven gave me a chance to start over. This time, I must unveil the veil of Mia Song’s mind-reading skills and take a good look at what tricks she is playing! 2 After receiving the text message of Mia Song’s mind-reading threat, I took deep breaths for a long time before calming down my emotions. Then immediately searched non-stop on the internet how to resist mind-reading. People on the internet said to keep a distance from people who can read minds. I remembered during the college entrance exam, Mia Song and I were not in the same classroom, so distance shouldn’t be a problem. They also said some objects are likely to be mediums for mind-reading. I suddenly remembered Mia Song once gave me a little bear hair clip and a cheap plastic bracelet. At that time she distributed them to the whole class, so I took them all. Now it seems very likely there are ghosts in these two small objects! I brought a hammer and smashed the bracelet and hair clip to pieces with maximum strength. I thought, this time I shouldn’t be read by Mia Song again. The next day, I arrived at the college entrance exam venue early like in my previous life. Seeing me, Mia Song smiled all over her face, pretending to hug me intimately, but actually whispered like a demon in my ear: “Chloe Su, you received that text message yesterday, right?” I was startled violently, hair all over my body standing up. She patted my face and said in an encouraging tone: “Chloe Su, you must take the exam well. If you don’t do well, how can I get into Tsinghua and Peking University?” She left laughing loudly, while my fingernails almost embedded into the flesh of my palms. Because I had taken the exam once, I answered unusually smoothly this time. I have already thrown away the things Mia Song gave me. Now, she shouldn’t be able to write the same answers as me, right? After the first day of exams ended, as expected, classmates gathered together to check answers again. Listening to them reporting the answers to all multiple-choice questions, I remained calm on the surface, but was actually jumping for joy inside. Because my answers were completely consistent with the standard answers! This time, I can not only aim for 700 points, but possibly even close to full marks! This way, I will definitely be admitted to Tsinghua and Peking University, get the scholarship to treat my parents. But just as I was about to leave, Mia Song suddenly grabbed my shoulder. She smiled and said to me: “Chloe Su, you did really well in the exam this time, actually got all multiple-choice questions right! But I think your composition wasn’t written well. What era is it still using Li Bai’s poems as material, old-fashioned.” Hearing her words, goosebumps all over my body exploded, and a drop of cold sweat slowly slid down from my forehead. Why, why does she still know all my answers, even knowing I used Li Bai’s poems in my composition! Clearly for this composition, what I wrote was completely different from my previous life, and the materials used were all new. I asked with teeth chattering: “How do you know?” “Told you, I have mind-reading skills.” She left laughing loudly. Every laugh was an insult to my personality. 3 The next day, I sat in the college entrance exam venue, pursing my lips with a solemn face. After the exam bell rang, everyone around immediately started answering the paper, fearing delaying a second. But I still sat straight without a trace of movement. The invigilator noticed my abnormality, walked over and kindly reminded me: “Student, the exam has started, hurry up and answer the questions.” But I nodded, yet didn’t move my pen a bit. I had already thought it through. Since whatever answers I write will be known by Mia Song, I might as well not write. I looked at the sky and the ground, looked at the leaves outside, just didn’t look at the paper. I don’t believe she can still know what my answers are like this. Sure enough, after the exam ended, before I walked out of the exam room, Mia Song rushed over like crazy. She came up and choked my neck, roaring with a ferocious face: “Why! Why didn’t you write a single word! Are you crazy!” My face was flushed red from being strangled by her, but I showed a victorious smile for the first time: “Yes, I am crazy, so don’t even think about copying a single answer from me again!” Our matter attracted the attention of countless people in the corridor. The invigilator pulled Mia Song away and asked in confusion: “How do you know Chloe Su turned in a blank paper?” Mia Song stopped talking. She flung the invigilator away: “Is it your turn to manage me! Get away!” Before leaving, she pointed at my nose and ordered viciously: “I tell you, for the last exam in the afternoon, you must take it well for me! Otherwise I’ll make you look good!” Classmates beside were talking about it, not knowing what exactly happened between us. I tidied my clothes and left the exam room with a normal expression. She asked me to take it well, I won’t. So for the second exam in the afternoon, I still turned in a blank paper. Although the invigilator persuaded me several times, I remained indifferent. After the exam, not surprisingly, Mia Song appeared outside my classroom door again. But this time, because teachers were protecting me, she couldn’t come over to hurt me. Mia Song could only stare at me from not far away, sneering again and again: “Chloe Su, playing this kind of small trick with me is useless. My family has plenty of money. If I fail the college entrance exam, my parents can send me abroad. And you, if you fail to get into Tsinghua and Peking University, your parents won’t have money for treatment, and your whole family will be finished!” I lowered my head and remained silent. And when I went to the hospital to visit my parents, my mom on the sickbed tightly grasped my hand. “Daughter, your school teacher called just now, saying you turned in blank papers for today’s exams. You, did you really turn in blank papers?” I dared not look into mom’s eyes, falling into silence. My parents are both migrant workers on construction sites. Three months ago, the construction site suddenly exploded, and both of them suffered serious injuries. My dad is still unconscious, and although my mom is conscious, she lies in bed unable to move. The boss of the construction site ran away with the money, and we have to pay all medical expenses ourselves. The whole family pinned hope on the college entrance exam, because the school once promised that as long as I get into Tsinghua and Peking University, they will give me a huge scholarship. With this money, mom and dad can have surgery, so the college entrance exam is crucial to my family, and my mom also cares very much about how I did. Seeing mom’s anxious look and red eyes, I nodded honestly. “Yes, I turned in blank papers for both subjects today. But Mom, don’t worry, I will take out your medical expenses on time.” My mom didn’t understand, but seeing me speak vowedly, she didn’t pursue further. Before leaving, mom said to me again: “Daughter, our family’s lives and property are all on you.” I nodded heavily: “I know Mom, I won’t let you down.” 4 Soon, it was the day the college entrance exam scores were released. The school asked all of us to go to the school’s computer room to check scores. But actually I knew long ago roughly how much I could score. I did very well in Chinese and Math on the first day, approaching full marks in both subjects. But I turned in blank papers for English and Comprehensive Science on the second day, so it was a blatant zero. Adding up to a total score of 750, I scored 295. This result made everyone’s jaw drop. In the classroom, the teacher looked at the computer screen in front of me, refreshing again and again. But no matter how refreshed, it was 295. The teacher issued a desperate question: “Chloe Su, didn’t you say you did well? How can there be two zeros!” “You are our school’s only seedling for Tsinghua and Peking University. You, you are harming others and yourself!” And just then, at the other end of the classroom came the exclamation of Mia Song’s good friend. “Mia Song, how did you only score 296 points!” “Yeah, didn’t you say you would definitely perform extraordinarily in the college entrance exam and sprint for Tsinghua and Peking University?” Hearing this score, my heart thudded again. Why, why can Mia Song always be one point higher than me? Before I could figure it out, Mia Song had already rushed towards me from the other end of the classroom. Like a beast, she pounced on me directly from the chair, then choked my neck tightly, slapping my face. “Chloe Su, you bitch! You harmed me! You will die a bad death!” The crazy Mia Song surprised everyone present. Teachers wanted to pull her away, but her strength was immense, and for a while, everyone couldn’t do anything about her. I lay on the ground, watching Mia Song hysterical in front of me, couldn’t help feeling happy inside. Two lifetimes, I finally can win her once! Mia Song saw me smiling, but laughed loudly herself: “Haha Chloe Su, do you think turning in a blank paper can change your destiny? Idiot! Now let alone getting into Tsinghua and Peking University, it’s hard for you to even reach the undergraduate line! But your pair of short-lived ghost parents are still lying in the hospital, waiting for your scholarship to save their lives! I’d like to see, failing to get into Tsinghua and Peking University, what you use to save your parents’ lives!” And just then, the classroom door was knocked from outside. The uncle from the mailroom asked loudly: “Is student Chloe Su from your class here? A scholarship has been mailed to the school, need her to sign for it.” This time, Mia Song was completely surprised. “How is it possible?! You, a person who didn’t even score 300 points, on what basis can you get a scholarship!” I pushed Mia Song pressing on me away, stood up and tidied my clothes, calmly walked towards the door. Then took the letter from the mailroom uncle. After tearing it open, inside was a check for one hundred thousand. Seeing this check, the big stone in my heart finally landed. With this money, mom and dad can both have surgery. Not only Mia Song in the class, all classmates were shocked. The teacher walked quickly to my side, staring at that check again and again: “Heavens! One hundred thousand scholarship! Chloe Su, you only scored this many points, who gave you the scholarship?!” Mia Song stood up and sneered disdainfully after hearing the scholarship amount. “Mere one hundred thousand, what use can it be?” “Your parents, one vegetable one seriously ill, one hundred thousand isn’t enough for staying in ICU for a day. Poor country folks, don’t squeeze in the city wasting our educational resources!” Mia Song’s words were very ugly, but because she is the school beauty and has a good family background, she usually has many lackeys in the class. Plus before school teachers protected me because of good grades, now I scored less than three hundred points, status plummeted. So many people in the class began to echo one after another. “Exactly! Before Chloe Su was fake aloof in class, ignoring when others spoke. Claiming to be top scholar every day, now isn’t it just a vocational college score? Pretending to be so amazing!” “Also this what one hundred thousand scholarship, where is there a scholarship mailed to school mailroom? I think it’s Chloe Su directing and acting a play herself, just finding some face for herself!” “Country folks indeed have no brains, still stubbornly want face, doing things so full of holes, simply making a huge joke!” … Facing everyone’s doubt and humiliation, I said nothing, just put the check away into my pocket. But the angry Mia Song didn’t plan to let me go. She forcibly snatched the check from my pocket. Just as the mocking expression was put on, it froze. “Mere ten thousand—US dollars?! How can this be a US dollar check?!” Mia Song couldn’t believe her eyes, rubbed her eyes and continued staring at the check: “I didn’t see wrong, it is US dollars!” The teacher was also surprised, snatched the check to his hand to look, following with an earth-shattering shout: “Ten thousand US dollars? Then isn’t that seven or eight hundred thousand RMB!” Not only them two, the rest of the classmates in the class also widened their eyes and opened their mouths. They gathered around, craning their necks and standing on tiptoes to look. Finally discovered with surprise, it really was ten thousand US dollars! I saw Mia Song’s brows pressed down, knowing she was hiding bad water in her belly again, so snatched the check back from the teacher in advance and stuffed it into my own pocket. “Now everyone has seen I have a check for ten thousand US dollars. If anyone dares to damage my check, I will call the police to arrest him to jail!” Although words were spoken to everyone, my eyes stared firmly at Mia Song. Her face changed, seeming annoyed that her little thought was seen through by me at a glance. Soon, a smile rose on Mia Song’s face again, arms crossed over chest, revealing an understanding smile. “Oh I know, fake, must be fake. Really hard for you, even finding the mailroom uncle to act this play with you. Say it, how much commission did you pay the uncle?” After Mia Song finished speaking, the whole class burst into laughter. A few even bent over laughing, unable to lift their heads. “Truly worthy of being a big scholar, the face-saving pretentious method thought of is so special.” “If not for blowing too much, even US dollars came out, I might really have believed it!” “Shh, stop talking, what if the scholar cries? Careful she finds foreign mercenaries to beat us!” The teacher didn’t stop their ridicule of me, even secretly nodded in agreement. Facing everyone’s ridicule, I didn’t have much reaction, just said: “Summer insects cannot speak of ice. I have nothing to say to you. My university admission notice will be delivered in a few days. Then you will know if I was lying and acting.” Mia Song sniffed, while I strode out of the classroom, hurrying to the bank to withdraw money.

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Upon learning that my best friend’s brother needed a partner for a marriage alliance, I immediately volunteered myself. After all, he’s handsome, wealthy, and has that cold, abstinent vibe. The key point is, he gives a seven-figure monthly allowance. After getting married, I hugged my best friend and snickered. “From now on, we’ll spend it together.” But tonight, when my best friend and I tried to sneak out to the bar in the dark, we were blocked right at the door by the man. “How about not going out?” 1 I married my best friend’s brother. But the two of us are like roommates sharing a house. When Julian leaves for work in the morning, I’m sleeping. When I go out clubbing at night, Julian hasn’t gotten off work yet. The bar is full of lights and wine, handsome guys and pretty girls swaying freely to the rhythm of the music under the influence of lights and alcohol. Ava downed the glass in front of her and shouted at me over the noise. “You come out with me like this every night, my brother doesn’t care?” I smiled gently at the young guy diagonally in front who kept stealing glances at me, slowly tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and then spoke slowly. “How could he? I don’t even see your brother’s face all day, how can he manage me?” Ava tugged at my skirt lightly, looking a bit unnatural. I ignored it, circling my index finger on the wine glass, continuing to talk to myself. “I’m not familiar with him, and he can’t control me. “Also, let me tell you, I think your brother, he doesn’t…” Before I finished speaking, a figure stood beside me. Thinking it was the shy boy just now, I raised my left hand and turned around wanting to tell him I’m married, but heard Ava stuttering. “Bro… Brother, you also… came here… what a coincidence haha.” I straightened my back unconsciously and turned my head awkwardly. “What a coincidence.” Julian stared straight at me, his usual cold eyes gone, replaced by heat and bewitchment. He parted his thin lips slightly. “Not a coincidence, I came to find you.” Pausing, he leaned down, close to my right ear. “To be precise, I followed you here.” The hot breath exhaled between words was like an electric current, making me numb. Before I could react, Julian took off his jacket and wrapped me tightly, grabbing my wrist and preparing to leave. I had a flash of inspiration, pointing at Ava trying to struggle. “Ava is still here, you feel assured leaving her alone here?” Julian turned sideways and glanced at Ava expressionlessly. Ava quickly raised her hands in surrender. “I will call a designated driver to take me home now, immediately, right away.” As soon as the words fell, Ava walked away without looking back. Leaving me alone in the wind. What happened to sharing weal and woe? ??? On the way home, Julian didn’t look at me again, nor did he say a word to me. Although he drove with an indifferent expression, the veins bulging on his hands on the steering wheel had already exposed his full anger. I dared not make a sound, taken home by Julian like a quail. As soon as we entered the house, Julian pulled me into his arms and lowered his head to kiss me. I pushed and hit wanting to scold him, but he took this opportunity to kiss me deeper. Until he felt I wasn’t resisting so much, Julian gave me a moment to breathe. I couldn’t stand firm. Sensing this, Julian chuckled lightly and picked me up horizontally. “Just this?” I glared at him reproachfully, my tone unconsciously carrying a hint of coquetry. “Isn’t it all your fault?” Julian’s body stiffened suddenly, breathing became a bit rapid, eyes darkened, looking like a storm was coming. I hooked my lips and leaned forward to offer a kiss actively. But Julian turned his head to avoid it, his voice deep. “You clearly saw that little boy in the bar liked you just now, yet you smiled at him.” I raised my eyebrows secretly, is this jealousy? My curved index finger slowly hooked up Julian’s tense jaw, forcing him to look at me, and I bit his lower lip lightly. “Are you sure you want to mention other boys at a time like this?” 2 The moonlight outside the window was just right, and the atmosphere inside was thick. But Julian was still pursuing unromantically. “Why?” I frowned slightly, feeling Julian was really a killjoy. “That was just a little boy, and he had friends with him. Was I supposed to walk up directly and warn him not to look at me?” I raised my left hand in front of his eyes. “I’m wearing a wedding ring. Whoever dares to hit on me, I’ll show it directly and tell him, I, am, married.” Julian looked at the wedding ring on my ring finger, a smile brewing in his eyes, corners of his mouth rising completely. But I didn’t see these. I lowered my eyes and rubbed them helplessly. Julian gently held my left hand, interlaced his fingers with mine, and rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb repeatedly. “Then what did you mean by saying you’re not familiar with me and I can’t control you?” I was stunned for a moment, tilting my head to look at Julian. “Didn’t you say before that we are only husband and wife in name, and have nothing to do with each other after marriage?” Julian’s deep eyes scanned my face back and forth. After confirming I wasn’t joking, he put me heavily on the sofa. Supporting himself against the wall with both arms, he encircled my whole person in his arms. He leaned in, stopping at a distance of a fist from me, voice hoarse. “‘Nothing to do with each other’? Good! Very good!” My body lightened, Julian got up and walked straight back to the room, slamming the door loudly. I stood there pondering, my guess seemed to be confirmed. Julian seems to really be impotent. If the first time Julian didn’t touch me was because he wasn’t feeling well. What about this time? The atmosphere was all set! Julian clearly felt it too, but he still didn’t touch me. Then there is only one possibility— Julian can’t do it! After figuring this out, I suddenly realized. No wonder Julian wanted to be husband and wife in name only with me, and gave me so much living expenses. Before knowing the reason, I dared not spend Julian’s money recklessly, holding a black card purely as a decoration. Now knowing the reason, spending money feels justified. At worst, I’ll take more care of him in daily life. After all, Julian is more or less my sugar daddy now. After Julian left the next day, I went straight to Ava’s house. I pinched Ava’s neck with a fierce look. “What happened to stabbing yourself for your best friend? You defected too fast, didn’t you? Did it take more than three seconds?” Ava smiled sheepishly and winked at me. “Then stabbing your best friend twice can barely count as stabbing yourself, right?” I was speechless. Seeing I didn’t respond, Ava shook my arm and acted spoiled. “My good Chloe, you know too, my brother’s killer look is too scary.” I sighed and let Ava go. After all, let alone Ava. I myself am also scared to death of Julian’s look. Actually, Ava, Julian and I grew up together. Originally quite normal, laughing and playing happily. But Julian just had to act crazy, inexplicably becoming aloof. A girl also has self-esteem. After I initiated conversation with him several times and he ignored me, I never looked for him actively again. My relationship with Ava was as good as ever, but I became more and more distant from Julian. Later Julian’s killer look reached the peak. So perverted that he only needed to glance at you lightly. Even if you didn’t do anything wrong, you would feel guilty as hell. I was never a rule-abiding person. So as soon as Julian’s gaze fell on me, I felt so guilty I wished I could confess all the mistakes in my past life on the spot. Therefore, I always stayed as far away from Julian as possible. But now, I actually married Julian. Two parallel lines that originally crossed and then separated, crossed again after Ava’s birthday. 3 After celebrating wildly outside, Ava felt it wasn’t enough, insisting I accompany her home to continue drinking. Julian was home alone, but he wasn’t feeling well, greeted us simply and went back to his room to rest. Ava and I drank in the living room for a long time. In the end, Ava lay motionless, and I still had a trace of rationality. After barely dragging Ava back to her room to lie down, I staggered out again to drink the remaining wine. Until feeling dizzy, I shook my head, groping my way back to Ava’s room based on memory. But probably because I drank too much, I groggily entered Julian’s room. Waking up, my clothes were scattered all over the floor. Julian had a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, shirtless, brows furrowed tightly, cheeks flushed red. I felt something was wrong, reached out to touch, and sure enough Julian was running a high fever. Knowing Julian’s house always kept a medicine box, I quickly got out of bed, put on clothes, and prepared to go out to get medicine for him. We are all adults, I planned to digest last night’s events myself. But when tiptoeing out of Julian’s room, I accidentally bumped into Julian’s mother. At that moment, I collapsed inside. I tried hard to squeeze out a fake smile. “Auntie, good morning…” Julian’s mother looked at the just closed door, then at me with messy hair. Her expression was first stunned, then gossipy, and finally ecstatic. Our families have been friends for generations, and Julian’s mother has always liked me very much. As if afraid I would slip away, she held my hand tightly with excitement, and called Julian’s father and my parents. Both parents laughed from ear to ear, even starting to discuss wedding details on the spot. Ridiculous! It was me who reminded Julian’s mother that Julian was running a high fever, allowing him to successfully take fever medicine. 4 After Julian recovered, he actively found me to explain. “That night, we… actually nothing happened.” I understood, nodded, didn’t think it was strange. When getting out of bed that day, my body indeed felt no discomfort. I was puzzled at the time. With Julian’s height of 1.88 meters, looking slim in clothes and muscular without. Logically it shouldn’t be. Wait! We both stripped like that, yet nothing happened? This Julian… Could it be… he can’t do it? “Cough cough…” Perhaps my scrutinizing gaze was too obvious, Julian coughed twice, ears slightly red. I woke up from a dream, smiling awkwardly. “You explained to me because of our parents, right? “They were also dizzy for a moment, making random matches. “Don’t worry, since nothing happened between us, I’ll go back and explain clearly to my parents and cancel this marriage. “And even if something happened, actually…” Julian interrupted my chatter with a calm face. “No.” I blinked, a bit confused. “Then?” Julian looked at me seriously, eyes warm and calm. “I want to marry you.” “Huh?” “I thought about it carefully. Our families are old friends, and both sides are familiar with each other. “My family is indeed urging tight, and you also broke up…” I made a stop gesture, puzzled. “Wait, how did you know I broke up?” I only told Ava about dating Leo, even my parents didn’t know. And breaking up with Leo happened two days ago, I planned to tell Ava tomorrow. Julian pursed his lips, dodging my inquiring gaze. “You… said it yourself that night.” “Oh.” I nodded thoughtfully. Drinking makes it easy to forget things, don’t know if I said other messy things. Julian continued. “We can be husband and wife in name only, have nothing to do with each other after marriage, just to deal with elders in the family.” My eyelid twitched uncontrollably. “Husband and wife in name only”, “nothing to do with each other”, “deal with elders”. Who would have thought these words came from Julian? Seeing no response from me, Julian upped the ante. “You also said that night you wanted lots and lots of love, if not, then you wanted lots and lots of money.” My mouth twitched. Heavens. Being drunk isn’t scary, being drunk and having someone help you recall is truly scary! Julian calmly took out a black card, dealing me a fatal blow. “This is my supplementary card, no limit, no password, use it as you like.” The black card was too dazzling, Julian saying this seemed to be glowing. I nodded inexplicably. Julian took me to the Civil Affairs Bureau to handle the procedures right then. Walking out of the Civil Affairs Bureau, Julian handed me a key. “This house will be our marital home. I’ve had people clean it up, you can move in anytime directly. “If you want to today, that’s also fine.” I held the marriage certificate in my left hand and the key in my right. Felt something wasn’t quite right, but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. An inexplicable illusion of helping count money after being sold. I was quite curious, when did Julian make these preparations? This is too sufficient! He even had my household register? Ridiculous!

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I woke up one morning and saw numbers hovering above everyone’s heads. Above my mom, it was 9450. Above my dad, it was 8639. The numbers above our housekeeper and butler were far lower than my parents’: in the hundreds, even the tens. Dazed, I drove out into Crescent Bay to test the theory. Most strangers had single-digit numbers floating above them; seeing anything above 10 was rare. I drove home with my mind spinning, only to find my parents’ numbers had changed. Both were down by 1 since the morning. A jolt ran through me. Could these be the remaining times I would see them? The thought sent a chill down my spine. Today, I also saw my sworn enemy, Rhys Montgomery. But the number above his head— It was only 3. 1 To test my suspicion, I paid an unannounced visit to the Montgomery estate the next morning. The sight of me, a rare visitor, made Rhys’s parents beam. They warmly ushered me to the sitting room. I stared at the numbers above them, both close to 2000, and grew more confused. I had over two thousand chances to see his parents, but only three left with Rhys himself? Just then, Rhys sauntered down the main staircase, still tying his bespoke tie. Sure enough, the number above his head had dropped to 2. My heart skipped a beat. I held the teacup, momentarily speechless. “Savannah Finch, what brings you here?” He caught sight of me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, as he walked over with a smirk that never quite reached his eyes. I put down the cup, abruptly stood up, and, completely out of character, looped my arm through his. “Rhys Montgomery, are you planning a long trip or, say, emigrating soon?” He lowered his lashes, focusing on my hand on his arm, a puzzled look on his face. “Recently? No.” I blinked, and amidst the knowing glances of the staff around us, I leaned in and whispered a suggestion: “Are you free today? Let me take you for a full medical checkup.” Rhys was my rival, my tormentor since childhood, but the genuine possibility of him having a sudden, terminal illness sent a wave of panic through me. His expression shifted slightly, then he laughed dismissively and lightly tapped my nose. “I just had a physical a few weeks ago, perfectly healthy. Want me to forward you the results?” On the sofa, his parents exchanged a look, as if they wanted to say something but couldn’t. I knew they were wondering why I was acting so intimate with Rhys today, only six months after I flat-out refused the proposed Montgomery-Finch merger/marriage. I couldn’t explain. I clung to him, my gaze darting up to the stark ‘2’ above his head. If it wasn’t an acute illness, could it be an accident? “Rhys Montgomery, I’m sticking with you today. Where you go, I go!” After making that bold declaration, I marched out, clutching his arm tightly, under the amazed eyes of everyone present. I was inseparable from him all morning. When he led the morning board meeting, I stood outside the clear glass wall of the conference room, my eyes fixed like a laser beam on the number above his head. At one point, his secretary brought me a chair and a coffee, clearly worried I’d tire myself out. When Rhys stepped out to use the restroom, I followed him down the hall, not letting him out of my sight. He finally looked at me, a helpless expression on his face. “We’ve reached the door. You can stop now.” I shamelessly tightened my grip on his suit sleeve, justifying myself. “This is your private washroom. I’ve known you since we were in matching toddler overalls; following you in is hardly out of line.” He managed a strained smile. “You’re taking a dare this seriously? Who did you lose to, Tatum Bell? Only she could come up with something so vindictive.” I instantly realized he thought I was just fulfilling a humiliating social debt. But this clinginess couldn’t last forever. If he needed to… do more than wash his hands, was I supposed to stare at him from inside the stall? … That image was too much. I’d just let him go and see if the number changed when he came out. I still had one visit to spare, anyway. In those few seconds, my mind raced. Until I heard Rhys’s resigned voice. “You want to come in? Fine. Come in. If you’re not embarrassed, why should I be?” He started to pull me inside. I stopped abruptly, pulled my hand away, and looked away. “On second thought, no.” Rhys let out a dry, short laugh. “Tapping out already.” But the moment his back disappeared behind the door, a fresh wave of panic hit. Ignoring everything, I pulled out my phone and dialed a video call. A few seconds later, the call connected. The screen showed the bathroom ceiling, and I could hear running water. “Rhys Montgomery, point the camera at your face!” 2 At my non-negotiable command, Rhys turned off the faucet, dried his hands with a tissue, and slowly raised the phone. “Savannah, my great aunt, you’re only going to torture me for one day, right?” In the camera, his brows were slightly furrowed, but there wasn’t a hint of real annoyance. When he finally emerged, the number above his head was still 2. I silently let out a breath of relief. It seemed the number didn’t decrease simply because we were in separate rooms. It only counted as a new meeting after a certain amount of time apart? I didn’t dare relax and continued to shadow Rhys, glancing at his head every thirty seconds. By the end of the day, my eyes felt like they were twitching. At quitting time, Rhys and I walked out of the Montgomery Industries building. A Bentley slid to a stop in front of us, and the window rolled down to reveal Tatum Bell’s grinning face. “Ha! Busted!” Today was my weekly gathering with Tatum, but I had bailed on her to keep an eye on Rhys. I couldn’t believe she tracked me down here. Rhys turned his head to me, a hint of dissatisfaction in his tone. “Didn’t you say you were having dinner with me tonight? Why is she here?” I froze, stunned by the number above Tatum’s head. Tatum was my fiercest friend, my shadow since we were toddlers, so why was her number only 15?! I immediately yanked open the car door, pulling Rhys in after me. “I’m in a good mood today. I’m treating you both to a hot spring spa and a huge dinner.” I sat in the middle of the back seat, flanked by them both, and gave the driver the address of a resort lodge outside the city. The driver, seeing Tatum look confused but not object, drove on. This was crazy. Even Tatum’s driver had over 500 more visits left with me! Was this girl hiding something crucial from me? In the car, Tatum nudged me with her elbow. “Hey, when did your relationship with the Montgomery Devil get so cozy? You used to avoid him like the plague.” Before I could answer, Rhys chimed in. “Thanks to you, Savannah is now incapable of leaving my side.” Tatum looked completely bewildered, pointing a finger at her own face. “Me?” I pulled her hand down and gave her a meaningful look. “Remember? We played Truth or Dare last time, and I lost to you? You dared me to stick to Rhys like glue.” My trusted accomplice quickly caught on and played along. “Oh, right, right! I totally forgot. My bad, I’ve been so busy lately.” Hearing that, I narrowed my eyes and pressed her. “Busy with what?” Tatum sighed, half-pensive, half-dreamy. “Ugh, my dad and my stepmom have decided to send me overseas for grad school. They say my ‘pretty little head’ needs to learn some real knowledge and independence.” 3 The moment I heard “overseas,” the alarm bells in my head went off. “Overseas? You’re telling me this now? When are you leaving? Which school? Are you coming back?” Tatum hadn’t expected my dramatic reaction and stammered her reply. “I—I only found out recently. My stepmom even contacted the school. I have to leave right after the New Year. But it’s only a one-year Master’s, and the school has a summer break. I’ll definitely be back; I don’t want to live on a revolving door of gray-tasting foreign food forever.” I quickly did the math. At our current meeting frequency, 15 was about the number of times we’d see each other before she left. From then on, I’d never see Tatum again? I felt my blood run cold. I was about to say something, but Rhys, who had been resting with his eyes closed, suddenly spoke in a low voice. “Your stepmother sounds quite eager about this.” Tatum nodded. “She does, but Dad also said studying abroad is good for me.” Rhys opened his eyes slightly and smiled, seemingly casually bringing up a topic. “Didn’t your stepmom just have another little boy this year?” Everyone in our circle knew about the Bell family’s new addition. Tatum’s biological mother died young, and her father married a beautiful second wife who gave birth to a son within a year. This year, their fifth year of marriage, the Bells welcomed a second son, Leo. The puzzle pieces clicked into a terrifying picture. The Bell family was one of the wealthiest in Crescent Bay. My suspicion was clear. If the stepmother had any ill intentions… I shivered. Once we reached the resort, changed into our swimsuits, and were soaking in the hot spring, I spoke to Tatum in a serious tone. “Tatum, listen to me. Don’t go abroad this time. Find an excuse to refuse. If you want to study overseas, choose the country and school yourself after the New Year. Do not let your stepmother interfere.” Tatum blinked her wet eyes at me. “Why, Sav?” Seeing her clueless expression, I decided to go all-in. I told her everything—about seeing numbers above people’s heads and what they meant. Tatum’s face went white. She lunged forward, clutching me in a hug. “Savannah, promise me you’re not telling me a horror story!” “Where would I get that kind of imagination?” I patted her back helplessly. Tatum, ever the dramatic one, immediately grabbed her phone from the edge of the pool. She called her dad, alternating between pleading, feigning illness, and threatening him. Finally, her dad conceded, agreeing to discuss the study abroad plan after the New Year. The instant Tatum hung up, I clearly saw the number above her head shoot up from 15 to 2000+. My eyes widened. I stood up in the pool, overjoyed. The number could change! Rhys was saved! 4 I quickly wrapped myself in a robe and sprinted toward the men’s spa. Rhys had just finished and was toweling his wet, short hair as he walked. I stopped in front of him, bent over, catching my breath. I was about to look up to check his number, but my gaze somehow lingered on his bare chest for too long. He finally broke the silence, scoffing. “Running that fast? Did a ghost chase you?” Normally, I’d have a sharp retort ready. But when I saw the unmoving 2 above his head, I didn’t know whether to feel relief or disappointment, and I couldn’t speak. What exactly did I need to do to make the number shoot up? The thought stopped me cold. Was the idea of seeing Rhys only twice more that upsetting to me? Was I really trying this desperately to change it? The thought of him facing an accident made my heart sink. I quickly stepped closer to him. “Rhys Montgomery, we’re sleeping here tonight. Don’t go back. Tomorrow is Saturday; you don’t have to clock in at Montgomery Industries. What do you say?” Just as I was racking my brain for a way to convince him to share a room, he reached out and touched my head. “Sure. And not just tomorrow, Savannah. I won’t need to be the CEO of Montgomery Industries anymore.” I froze, sure I heard him wrong. I looked up and saw Rhys watching me with a complex expression. He was tall, handsome, with eyes that could charm the devil. He was brilliant and capable. Every time he smiled, I felt like he was a cunning fox about to cause trouble. He was also a master of telling terrifying ghost stories. That’s why, since high school, I’d done my best to avoid him. Yet, the Finches and the Montgomerys were business partners for decades. Rhys and I were constantly in each other’s orbits. When he said he was quitting, I instinctively grabbed his wrist, a thread of panic in my voice. “What do you mean? Bored of being CEO? Want to try the common life?” Rhys looked down, his gaze fixed on my hand gripping his wrist. He didn’t speak for a long moment. It was then that the 2 above his head suddenly jumped to 10! I blinked, confirming I hadn’t imagined it. Holding hands made the meeting count go up? What was the logic here? Instinctively, I reached for his other hand and grasped it tightly. Rhys’s eyes moved slightly, and the number above him jumped again—to 15. I threw caution to the wind. I let go and pulled him into a full-body hug. The rhythmic pounding in my chest vibrated against his. I closed my eyes, counted to five, and released him. I looked up. —30! Exponential growth! Before my smile fully formed, and before I could proceed to the next step, Rhys’s fingers gently pinched my chin. “Savannah Finch.” His voice held a hint of warning, and his eyes had grown darker. I held my breath, my smile freezing on my lips. “What exactly is on the top of my head that you keep staring at all day?”

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My son, Leo, stood in the doorway, holding a phone. I was washing dishes and asked, without looking, “Where did you get that?” “From Dad.” “Put it back.” “But Dad has two phones, Mom.” I dried my hands and walked over. It was an older Samsung, not the sleek new iPhone Daniel usually carried. “This one…” I took the phone. The screen lit up. The WeChat interface. The pinned chat was labeled, “Wifey.” I stared at the two words, my fingers going rigid. “Mom, the other phone Dad has, there’s an auntie who calls him ‘Honey,’ too.” Leo tilted his head, blinking up at me, his face utterly innocent. The clock in the living room ticked, a slow, relentless sound. I slowly crouched down and stroked my son’s hair. “Leo, Mommy is going to keep this phone for a while.” My voice was unnervingly calm. But the hand holding the phone was shaking. 1 Daniel didn’t come home that night. He sent a text saying he had client obligations and told me not to wait up. I didn’t reply. I sat on the sofa with two phones laid out before me. One was his usual iPhone; the other was the Samsung Leo had dug out of his gym bag. He’d left in a hurry and forgotten it. Or, more accurately, for six years, he had hidden this phone flawlessly, never bringing it home. Until tonight. I took a deep breath and opened the Samsung. There were only two contacts in the chat list. One was “Wifey,” and the other was “Mom.” I tapped on “Wifey’s” chat log. The date of the very first message was March 7, 2018. That was the second year of our marriage. “Honey, I miss you.” “Me too, babe.” I scrolled down. “Honey, can you come out tonight?” “Can’t. She’s watching me closely lately. Just wait.” She. That was me. I kept scrolling. “Honey, you said you’d marry me, right?” “Of course, when the time is right.” “Honey, this month’s rent is due.” “Okay, I’ll transfer it now.” The transfer records. $1,500. Every single month, without fail. $1,500. My hand trembled. Further down. “Wifey, I found the car I promised. The Mini Cooper you like.” “Really? You’re the best, Honey!” “It’s forty thousand down. I’ll cover it.” Another transfer. I continued. “Wifey, I’m looking at condos for us. As soon as I save up the down payment, I’ll buy it.” “Oh, Honey, I want one with a huge balcony!” “Done. Whatever you want.” I scrolled mechanically. One year. Two years. Three years. Four years. Five years. Six years. Six years of chat logs. Six years of wire transfers. Six years of sweet words. Six years of “Honey” and “Wifey.” And me, his legal wife, in those six years, I was criticized for spending $50 on a new top. I opened the transfer records and began calculating, transaction by transaction. $1,500 x 12 months x 6 years = $108,000. Add the $40,000 car down payment. Add the down payment for the condo—I found the record—$100,000. Plus scattered gifts, red envelopes, bags, clothes, vacations… It took me two hours to total all the transfers. $300,000. Six years, $300,000. I sat on the sofa, staring at the number, my eyes aching with dryness. Last year, my mother was hospitalized and needed surgery. $8,000. I went to him for help. What did he say? “Your mother’s issues are yours to handle. Where am I going to find eight thousand dollars? The company’s cash flow is tight.” I begged him, on my knees. He sighed, “Fine, stop crying. I’ll see what I can do.” He finally gave me $5,000. And I was tearfully grateful, believing he was a good husband. $300,000. How many surgeries would that cover for my mother? The living room light was harsh. I closed my eyes, then opened them again. Then, I started taking screenshots. One by one. Chat logs. Transfer records. Voice messages. Photos. His selfies sent to her. Her selfies sent to him. Photos of them together. Pictures from a trip he told me was a “corporate retreat.” I spent another two hours compiling everything. When I was finished, I placed the phone back in his gym bag, precisely where he had hidden it. Then, I washed my face, checked Leo’s homework, and tucked him into bed. Lying in our bed, I stared at the ceiling. Daniel. We’ve been married for seven years. You’ve lied to me for six. I didn’t know what I was feeling in that moment. Anger? Heartbreak? Despair? All of the above. But more than anything, there was a strange, cold calm. It was as if someone had stabbed me, and while the blood poured out, I became perfectly lucid. The phone vibrated. It was Daniel’s text: “Wife, too much to drink at the dinner tonight. Staying out. Go to sleep early.” I stared at the message, the corner of my mouth twitching. Then, I opened his chat with the mistress and found today’s date. At the exact same time, he sent her: “Wifey, I’m home. Spending the night with you.” Home. His home was not here. It was with her. I put the phone down, closed my eyes, and waited for the morning. Daniel, you think I’m going to cry? I won’t. I’ve made my decision. 2. Daniel came back the next morning. He looked a little tired but was in a good mood and was carrying a bouquet. “Wife, these are for you.” I took the flowers and smiled. “Thank you.” “Where’s Leo?” “At daycare.” He nodded and walked toward the bedroom to change. I watched his retreating back, my voice flat. “Did you find your Samsung phone?” His step hitched. Just for a second. Then he turned around, his expression normal. “What Samsung phone?” “Leo said there was a phone in your gym bag.” “Oh, that. That’s a work phone the company gave me. Just for business.” He smiled easily. “Kids always rummaging through things. I’ve told him a thousand times.” “A company phone?” “Yeah, business needs. Two phones make things easier.” He said it so casually. I nodded. “I see.” He visibly relaxed and went into the bedroom. I stood in the doorway, looking at the bouquet in my hands. Lilies. My favorite. He actually remembered. But what good were a few flowers? What he gave her was a car, a condo, and six years of devotion. What he gave me was a $20 bouquet of lilies. I put the flowers in a vase and walked into the kitchen to start dinner. As I was chopping vegetables, I spoke, my voice loud in the quiet house. “Honey.” “Hmm?” He was watching sports in the living room. “Last year, when my mother was hospitalized, you said the company’s cash flow was tight and could only give me five thousand.” “…Yeah, what about it?” “Nothing.” I paused. “Just thinking about it.” The knife came down sharply on the cutting board, a clear, decisive thwack. “I did the math. The person on your… ‘business phone’—you’ve transferred them about three hundred thousand over the years.” Silence blanketed the living room. The sound of the TV was still there, but Daniel didn’t speak. “Three hundred thousand.” I repeated the number, still perfectly calm. “How many surgeries would that cover for my mother?” “What are you talking about?” His voice came from the living room, laced with sudden tension. I didn’t answer. I heard him get up, his footsteps approaching the kitchen. “Maya.” He stood in the kitchen doorway, his voice low and dangerous. “Did you go through my phone?” I looked up at him. His eyes held panic, annoyance, and a sliver of… guilt. “I did.” I said. “You—” “Seven years married, six years cheating.” I cut him off. “Daniel, do you have anything to say for yourself?” His face flushed a deep red. “You goddamn—” “Three hundred thousand.” I said the number again. “How many surgeries for your mother? You always claimed we were tight on money.” He froze. “You—” “You bought her a condo, a car, and transfer her fifteen hundred in allowance every month.” I listed each item calmly. “But you complained when I bought a fifty-dollar top.” “Maya!” he roared. “Why are you shouting?” I put the knife down and looked at him. “A guilty conscience?” His chest was heaving. “You, you let me explain—” “No need.” “That woman was harassing me! It wasn’t serious—” “Daniel.” I interrupted him again. “You called her ‘Wifey.’” His words caught in his throat. “You called her Wifey, and you called me Wife.” I smiled faintly. “How many wives do you have?” He opened his mouth, speechless. “You say it was nothing. What was the three hundred thousand for? Throwing money away?” “That was—that was—” “What was it? Say it.” He fell silent. I waited a few seconds, then turned back to chopping vegetables. “Nothing more to say, then. I know everything I need to know.” “Maya, what do you want?” “What do I want?” I didn’t look up. “I haven’t decided yet. But you can start thinking about what you want.” “What does that mean?” “Divorce.” I said the word with careless ease. He stared for a moment, then sneered. “Divorce? Dream on.” “Oh? You disagree?” “Maya, I’m telling you, you can have a divorce, but you aren’t getting anything from this marriage.” My chopping stopped again. “The condo is in my parents’ name. The car is in mine. Savings…” He smirked. “What are you going to take?” I turned and looked at him. His face was a mask of smug entitlement. “You can leave,” he articulated slowly, “but you aren’t taking anything with you. Except your son.” I looked at him, and then I smiled. “Daniel.” “What?” “You forgot one thing.” “What?” “Before we got married, when you were chasing me, you signed an agreement.” His color changed. “What agreement?” “You forgot?” I tilted my head. “It stipulated that if you committed adultery, you would voluntarily relinquish all claims to marital assets.” “That—that was—” “That was your signature, and your thumbprint.” His face went completely white. “I…” “Well?” I watched him. “Did you remember?” He opened his mouth, unable to speak a word. I turned back around, continuing to chop the vegetables. “Like I said, I haven’t decided yet. But you should start thinking about how you plan to handle that agreement.” The kitchen fell quiet. Only the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board. Clear. Forceful. 3. That night, Daniel didn’t sleep in the master bedroom. He took the guest room. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind a whirl. The agreement was a deliberate move. It was real. Before we married, he’d pursued me for two years, and I kept turning him down. Finally, I gave him a condition: sign a written fidelity agreement, guaranteeing loyalty after marriage, or forfeit all assets. He signed it. At the time, he’d been full of passionate promises that he’d only ever love me. I believed him. I filed the agreement away, hidden where he would never look. I thought I’d never need it. Now, I did. But the agreement alone wasn’t enough. I needed more evidence. The next morning, I took a personal day and went to Sophia’s law office. Sophia was my college roommate and became an attorney after graduation. She listened to my story, her expression hardening. “Jesus, this Daniel.” She swore. “Maya, what’s your plan?” “Divorce.” “Good. I’m with you.” “But I need solid evidence.” “You have the chat logs and transfer records, don’t you?” “Those are from his burner phone, just screenshots,” I explained. “I need the bank statements to prove that the three hundred thousand came out of our joint marital accounts.” “I can pull those for you.” Sophia nodded. “What else?” “Information on the mistress. I only know her WeChat name; I don’t know who she is or where she lives.” “That’s searchable.” “And…” I paused. “I need to know if the condo he bought her can be recovered.” Sophia pondered this. “If we can prove it was purchased with marital funds—joint savings—then we can certainly file a claim for recovery.” “Good.” “Maya.” Sophia looked at me closely. “You’re incredibly calm right now.” “If I wasn’t calm, what good would that do?” I gave a wry smile. “Cry?” “You’re allowed to cry.” “Would it change anything?” Sophia sighed and reached out, gripping my hand. “I’ll help you.” “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me. I’ve never liked Daniel anyway. A jerk needs to be taken down.” I nodded. Walking out of the law office, the sunshine was blinding. I stood on the street corner and took a deep breath. My phone rang. It was Daniel. “Where are you?” “Out.” “When are you coming home?” “Later.” “Maya, don’t make a scene. Come home and we can talk.” I didn’t reply. I hung up. He thought I was making a “scene.” He assumed I was just having a tantrum and would get over it in a couple of days. He had no idea I had started a campaign. Three days later, Sophia sent me the investigation results. The mistress’s name was Madison, Maddy, for short. Twenty-eight years old, a server at a high-end cocktail lounge. She met Daniel at a client dinner. Daniel had just been promoted to Sales Director, which meant more outings and more drinking. Maddy was a server at the high-end spot. Daniel noticed her immediately. That year, I was six months pregnant. I was home, nauseous and caring for my unborn child, while he was out flirting and sleeping with other women. I looked at the documents Sophia sent me, a heavy stone settling in my chest. But I didn’t shed a tear. I kept reading. In 2020, Daniel bought Maddy a Mini Cooper. $40,000 down, which he paid. In 2021, Daniel started looking for a condo for Maddy. In 2022, Daniel bought Maddy a small two-bedroom condo. The down payment was $100,000; it was a cash purchase. The deed was in Maddy’s name. But the purchase funds came directly from Daniel’s salary account. And that salary account was a joint marital asset. I organized all the information and saved it in an encrypted folder. Then, I started going through the bank statements Sophia got for me. Six years. 267 transfers. Aside from the fixed $1,500 monthly allowance, there were countless gifts, shopping sprees, vacations, and bonuses… I went through them, transaction by transaction, and the irony was suffocating. May 2019, Transfer $3,000, Note: Happy Birthday, Babe. The same day was my birthday. He treated me to dinner, $150 a person. February 2020, Transfer $8,000, Note: For a New Designer Bag. The same month, I asked about enrolling Leo in an early education class. Daniel said it was too expensive and unnecessary. July 2021, Transfer $15,000, Note: Maldives Trip for Us, Babe.

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I was having dinner when suddenly, my husband and my best friend both disappeared. After searching for a while, glowing text—like a livestream chat—floated before my eyes: [Omg, thank god the Male Lead grabbed the Female Lead and hid in the walk-in freezer! If the Supporting Female Lead saw them, it would be over!] [But they’re naked! They can’t hide in there forever, they’ll freeze to death!] I froze. So my husband was hugging my best friend in a freezer, and I was the “Supporting Female Lead”? I walked toward the freezer door, but the owner blocked me. “That’s our ingredients freezer, customers only!” The chat panicked too! [Wow, thank god the FL’s bestie blocked the SFL, or they’d be caught.] [It’s fine, it’s fine. As long as the SFL leaves, they can come out!] The words “freeze to death” flashed in my mind. I changed my strategy. “I want to change tables. I’m sitting right here.” The owner and the chat were dumbfounded. “What? Sit here?” [WTF, what is the SFL doing? If she sits in the main hall, how can our leads get out!] 1 I tore my eyes away from the floating text, suppressing a cold sneer. Everyone’s surprised? Then I better eat well, and eat slowly. Otherwise, I’d be letting down the two people hugging in the freezer. The owner was named Bella. I’d been here a few times, so we were acquaintances. But I didn’t know she was even closer with my “best friend,” Chloe. Close enough to be co-conspirators. Now, to cover for Chloe and my husband, David, she was blocking the freezer door. I looked at her coldly. “Is there a problem, Bella?” “The private room is stuffy. I want to sit in the hall. And I want to order more food. A grilled fish, and other dishes.” “I was holding back inside. Now I can eat freely.” “Besides the fish, I want two cases of beer, spicy chicken wings, 100 lamb skewers, 20 chicken legs, 50 oysters…” Bella looked confused for a second. Hearing the huge order, she instinctively picked up her pad to write it down. While she was writing, I called my friends in the private room. “Guys, come out! We’re switching tables. I ordered a feast and booze!” “Bring my bag and coat.” My friends on the phone started cheering. “Damn, Sarah! Ordering more? Are we drinking till dawn?” “Seriously, I thought we were wrapping up. Didn’t expect Sarah to go hard just because she stepped out. If we don’t eat, we’re disrespecting her!” “Let’s go, let’s go!” When they came out and sat down, I laughed loudly. “Eat! Nobody goes home until we’re stuffed!” 2 Bella was stunned. Holding the menu, she didn’t know whether to kick us out or tell the kitchen to start cooking. She looked worriedly at the freezer door, hesitated for a few seconds, then tried to make us leave. “I just remembered, we’re out of ingredients for these dishes. Can’t make them. You guys should go.” The chat reacted and praised Bella desperately: [The FL’s bestie is the real MVP! Giving up money to save her friend!] [That order was at least a grand. Bella is loyal!] [This SFL is so vicious. She wants to freeze our leads to death! Hmph, dream on!] [If the SFL and her friends don’t leave, it’s actually dangerous. That freezer is -5 degrees. They’re naked. They won’t last an hour.] [Sob, what to do? I want to rush in and kick them out!] Bella wished she could too. She wanted us gone now. But we had already moved the unfinished dishes from the private room to the new table. My friend Mike, mouth full of food, snapped at Bella: “Bella, that’s not cool. We haven’t even finished our food, and you’re kicking us out?” “Plus, we’re ordering more. You’re running a business, you have no reason to drive us away, right?” Panic flashed across Bella’s face. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m not kicking you out. We really are out of ingredients.” I stood up and looked at the display fridges behind her. Rows of ingredients were neatly stacked. Fully stocked. “Bella, the food we ordered is right there in the glass case. How can you be out?” “Hurry up and serve us. I have more people coming. We’ll probably order even more.” Bella froze. “What? More people?” I waved my phone and smiled. “Yeah. I called my mother-in-law and her bridge club friends.” “They love your food. They’re big gossips. Treat them well, and they’ll give your restaurant free publicity.” 3 Bella turned to stone. So did the chat. [WTF! What is the SFL doing! Why call the ML’s mom? This is a death sentence!] [Even though the ML’s mom likes the FL, if she sees her son cheating and gets embarrassed in front of her friends, she’ll never agree to them being together!] [Exactly! She told the ML that the FL is way better than the SFL, but if they get caught now, that image is ruined!] [You guys are thinking about that? If the SFL doesn’t leave, our leads will freeze to death! Look, they’re shivering, there’s frost on their faces!] [Yeah, so pitiful. What do we do? I’m dying of anxiety.] [Don’t worry. The FL’s bestie will solve it.] I laughed internally. Really? Bella can solve this? Then I’ll watch and see how she solves it. Bella finally snapped out of it. Since the “out of stock” excuse failed, she tried another. “The kitchen just told me the gas is out. Can’t cook. If you want to eat, go somewhere else.” Anger rose in my chest. I rushed to the kitchen door. The chefs were cooking furiously, flames high. Just then, the restaurant’s speaker announced: “New DoorDash order received.” I sneered. “Bella, you’re acting really weird today. Why are you desperate to kick us out?” “Do you have some dirty secret?” “Your kitchen is busy, and there are spare gas tanks right there. This isn’t a roadside stall; you don’t just ‘run out’ of gas.” “If you don’t explain clearly today, we’re not leaving. I recorded a video. I’ll post it online and let the internet judge!” 4 Bella nearly fainted from anger. The chat was full of angry emojis. [Damn it, I want to slap this SFL!] [Why is she arguing with the FL’s bestie? Our FL is so cold she can’t speak. If the ML wasn’t hugging her tight, she’d have passed out!] [It’s okay. If they survive this, this life-and-death experience will make their love invincible.] Really? Invincible love? Sorry, I won’t let that happen. My friends started shouting about reporting Bella to the Better Business Bureau. Bella had no choice but to take the order to the kitchen. Watching her reluctant back, I felt a thrill of revenge. But it came with pain and rage. I treated Chloe well. I got her a job at David’s company when she was unemployed. She had nowhere to live, so I made David rent her a studio apartment. I included her in everything fun. And this? This is how she repays me! But it takes two to tango. David is scum too. Rabbits don’t eat the grass around their burrow, but he not only ate it, he dared to do something this thrilling right under my nose, with all our friends present. Since they want a thrill, I’ll give them enough thrill. Today, I’ll block them in there and see if they have the luck to walk out alive! “Sarah, you’re amazing. Spending my son’s money on food and drinks behind my back again? And bringing so many people!” A voice full of anger interrupted my thoughts. I turned around. My mother-in-law, Karen, arrived with her two sisters. Three women with permed hair and heavy makeup, thinking they were high society. But in reality, the Sterling family was barely middle-class in this city. Not worth a second look. Yet, Karen despised me, thinking I wasn’t good enough for David. After all, my family was just… normal. She always said I was spending David’s money. If another woman were his wife, she wouldn’t say that. Earlier, she didn’t want to come. When I mentioned a feast, she ran over. Said she wanted to eat back her son’s money. Ignoring her anger, I welcomed her with a smile. “Mom, Auntie Linda, Auntie Sue! Come sit!” “It’s not just my friends. David is here too. He just stepped out for a bit.”

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The news of my ex-wife and daughter, after my second chance at life, came via a call from an unfamiliar number. “Hello, who is this?” My voice must have triggered something, because the person on the other end immediately burst into an excited response. “Daddy, Maisie misses you so much! When are you going to come see Mommy and me?” “We have a big field day next month, and you haven’t been to one of my school sports in ages.” I kept my expression blank, my rejection swift and cold. “Don’t you have a better dad now?” “Go ask your new father for help.” I hung up without another word, then turned the phone off. 1 I will never forget the day my wife was reclaimed by her old-money family. I was in our cramped studio apartment, packing a small, worn suitcase. She saw me and frowned, her eyes sharp. “Put that down. I’m only taking Graham and Maisie. You’ll stay here for now, in the old side of the city.” “I’ll send you a five hundred dollar a month allowance, and I’ll make time for you to see Maisie.” I nodded calmly. No scene, no argument. I’d known for a long time that she would only take The Golden Boy and my daughter. In my previous life, I’d followed them, clawing and begging my way into the Ashford estate. I thought I could finally enjoy some security. Instead, The Golden Boy—Graham—framed me for theft. And my own daughter coaxed me out to the eighteenth-floor balcony and pushed me off. I remember her eyes, red-rimmed and spitting fire, as I fell. “I don’t want a thief for a father! If you hadn’t insisted on coming home with us, I would have had a better dad sooner!” In that moment, I’d plunged into an icy hell. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Lying on my phone screen was a text message from a top-secret government research division. “Mr. Kinsley, we are pleased to inform you of your immediate recruitment. Please note: Upon induction, you are forbidden from contact with any outside parties for a period of five years.” I had two days left before I was due to surrender myself—my life, my future—to the state. But the night I moved into a discreet rental box, seeking anonymity, the door was kicked in. Vivienne Ashford stood in the entryway, her white designer suit soaked with rain, her face as dark as the storm clouds. Behind her, holding an umbrella, was Graham Alistair. And clinging to his hand was my daughter, Maisie. Graham stepped forward, his expression a mixture of feigned sympathy and righteous anger. “Rhys, I know you’re upset, but you can’t steal my mother’s locket. It was the only thing I had left of her…” The blood in my veins turned to ice. I realized this was the exact same script, the same toxic, manipulative scene from the life I was supposed to have escaped. I fought the tremor in my hands, trying to speak, to stop them— But the bodyguards were already tearing through my meager belongings. They reached into a hidden pocket in the bottom of my travel bag and pulled out a delicate silver chain with a pendant. Vivienne held the necklace up, and the look of pure disgust in her eyes threatened to flay me alive. A chilling clarity washed over me. It couldn’t be… It was Graham. In both lives, he had planned this. He had made sure I was ready to be loathed by everyone I loved. Vivienne’s voice was lethal. “Caught red-handed, Rhys Kinsley. For the sake of our history, I’m giving you a chance to confess.” Confess? I raised my head, forcing back the tears. I was only two days away from a completely new life. “I’m not guilty. What is there to confess?” The finality in my tone only stoked Vivienne’s fury. She barked a command toward the door. “Make him confess!” Two hulking men immediately rushed in and seized me, one on each side. One of them pressed down hard on the back of my neck, the crushing force driving me into a humiliating bow before Graham. “Kneel and apologize!” Vivienne’s icy voice commanded from above. I clenched my jaw, fighting with every ounce of strength I had. “It wasn’t me! Vivienne, I won’t apologize!” But the bodyguard’s hand was an iron clamp. He slammed my head down hard onto the rough concrete floor. Thud! The sharp, searing pain exploded across my forehead. “Apologize,” Vivienne ordered. “I… didn’t…” I managed to choke out. Thud! Another blow, harder this time. I felt the warm, sticky flow of blood beginning to run down my face. Maisie’s small, tearful voice piped up. “Daddy, just confess. Maisie is scared…” My daughter’s plea tore at my heart. She didn’t know. Every time she called me “Daddy,” it was another piece of shrapnel in my shattered soul. In the past life, as I was shoved from the rooftop, I couldn’t understand why the daughter I’d cherished for ten years trusted a man who was no blood relation over me. Vivienne’s voice was thick with derision. “See? Even your own daughter is ashamed of you.” Thud! The third time. My vision blurred. Blood and sweat mixed, dripping onto the cold floor. Graham made a show of stepping forward. “Vivienne, enough… Perhaps Rhys was just confused for a moment…” “Confused? I think he’s incorrigible!” The bodyguard grabbed my head again, but I fought to raise it, locking eyes with Graham. “I did nothing wrong!” Vivienne completely snapped. “Still fighting me?! Keep going! Don’t stop until he admits it!” It was then that Maisie suddenly ran forward and kicked my shoulder with all her small might. “You’re a thief! I’m never going to call you Dad again! Maisie hates you!” The kick wasn’t physically severe, but it froze me completely. I forgot how to struggle. My own daughter. While I was being framed and brutally forced to my knees, she didn’t just fail to believe me; she delivered the final blow. This is what a dead heart feels like. Vivienne seemed momentarily shocked by Maisie’s action and waved her hand. The bodyguards released their grip. I collapsed onto the ground, blood still streaming from my forehead. She stepped up to me, rain dripping from her hair. “Rhys Kinsley. For Maisie’s sake, if you just admit your mistake and apologize to Graham, I’ll let this go.” I raised my head, staring at her through my blood-smeared vision. Then at the innocent-faced Graham behind her, and finally at my daughter, who was looking at me like a stranger. I smiled, a thin line of red spilling from the corner of my mouth. “I… did nothing wrong.” “And I will never apologize to Graham Alistair!” I fixed my stare on Graham as I spoke the last three words, each one ringing with final, defiant certainty. Vivienne flew into a rage. “Stubborn fool! Drag him outside and make him kneel in the mud! He doesn’t get up until he confesses!” I was roughly hauled out into the yard and thrown down into the freezing mud. The storm raged, the torrential rain washing over the wound on my forehead, the pain searing cold. Behind me, I heard Graham’s soft, concerned voice. “Vivienne, it’s pouring. Maybe let Rhys come inside…” And Maisie’s childish question. “Mommy, when will the bad thief finally confess?” Followed by Vivienne’s cold response. “It’s his own fault.” The thief? His own fault? The physical pain was a dull ache compared to the agony in my chest. The sounds faded, and I finally sank into unconsciousness. The smell of antiseptic stung my nose. I woke with a shuddering jolt of agony. Above me, the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room. Standing around my bed, like grim iron statues, were several emotionless men in black suits. Bodyguards. “He’s awake.” A frigid voice reached me. I managed to turn my head with difficulty. Vivienne stood by the bed, her face stormy. She held the necklace in her hand, her eyes devoid of warmth—only scrutiny and disgust. She held it up. “Rhys Kinsley, I’m asking you one last time. Where is the real heirloom from Graham’s mother? This one is a fake.” A fake? My pupils contracted. The realization hit me like a physical blow. Graham. His heart was pure venom. He had used a counterfeit to solidify my guilt, ensuring that whether I confessed or not, he had a trump card. The real necklace was probably long gone, hidden or disposed of. He didn’t just want to ruin my reputation; he wanted to destroy me completely, to make my comeback impossible. I tried to speak, my throat dry and raspy. “I don’t have it!” My chest tightened, squeezed by an invisible hand. Why? Why, even in this second chance, could I not escape this malicious trap? Why must I bear this baseless accusation? Vivienne stared at me, trying to gauge the truth in my eyes. A moment later, the last sliver of patience vanished, replaced by a heavy curtain of disappointment and ruthlessness. “It seems you won’t talk without persuasion.” She took a step back and gave a cold command to the bodyguards. “A thief doesn’t deserve his hands. Since he won’t give us the truth, break his fingers, one by one. We’re in a hospital; he won’t die.” I snapped my eyes open, staring at her in horror. She wants to break my fingers?! No! I can’t! I thrashed against the restraints, but the bodyguards held me fast. I need my hands! The National Research Institute! My future! My only hope of escaping this nightmare was vested in the hands I would use to manipulate delicate instruments and conduct experiments. Without them, everything would be ruined! “Vivienne Ashford! You can’t!” I shrieked, desperation overriding all reason. “I didn’t steal! I didn’t…” But she watched with cold indifference, as if observing a silent play that held no personal meaning for her. One of the bodyguards stepped forward, grabbed my left hand, and fixed his grip on my index finger. “No!” My agonizing scream tore through the sterile silence of the room. Snap! The sharp crack of bone breaking. The agonizing, piercing pain made my vision go black, almost dragging me into unconsciousness. The pain. Indescribable. But it was only a fraction of the agony in my soul. I looked at the beautiful profile of the woman I had loved with my whole being for ten years. Hatred, like a poisonous vine, coiled and began to grow. I hated her! But I hated myself more! How could I have been so blind as to fall for this heartless, cold, morally bankrupt woman? To protect her fragile ego, I had hidden my advanced degrees and my true capability, willingly becoming a stay-at-home husband, letting her believe I was ordinary. Ten years of devotion, ten years of my life, bought me this fate. I regretted it. I truly regretted ever loving her. Snap! The second finger was broken. “Agh!” My body convulsed in agony, cold sweat instantly soaking my hospital gown. Vivienne stood there, her face expressionless, But I caught a fleeting glimpse of her hand at her side, her knuckles white with tension. Does it hurt, Vivienne? It is nothing compared to what you have inflicted on me. Snap! Snap! The third. The fourth… The excruciating pain came in waves, threatening to drown my consciousness. I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood, refusing to yield, refusing to confess to a crime I didn’t commit. One, two, three… When all four fingers of my left hand, excluding the thumb, were bent at unnatural angles, the bodyguard moved to my right hand. Despair, like icy lake water, began to consume me. My future, my dreams, shattered before my eyes. Snap! When the ninth finger was brutally snapped, I no longer had the strength to scream. I was a dying fish, paralyzed on the bed, only the shallow rise and fall of my chest proving I was still alive. Nine fingers broken, my body a ruin. My life, too, was broken in that instant. Yet, I had never confessed to stealing. Vivienne looked at my pathetic form, soaked in blood and tears, at my ten monstrously swollen and misshapen fingers. Her face went pale for a split second. She spun around, her voice betraying a hint of unnoticed hoarseness. “Call the doctor. Set them.” With that, She fled, practically running from the room, without a single backward glance. Doctors and nurses came in, timid and shaky, to clean the wounds and splint my broken, mangled fingers. The fierce pain caused me to black out and wake up repeatedly until I was forced onto an oxygen mask to maintain my weak breathing. I lay there, a broken doll on a cold slab, my mind swirling with hate, regret, and despair. Why did I ever meet her? Why did I let my life be destroyed by this woman? Late that night, the door to the room creaked open softly. Two figures, one large, one small, silently approached my bedside. It was Graham Alistair, and my daughter, Maisie. My consciousness was foggy, but I could sense their presence. Graham’s voice was a soft, venomous whisper. “Maisie, look how sad Daddy is. Don’t you want Mr. Alistair to be your real daddy? I’ll buy you lots of beautiful dresses, take you to the best parks, and make you the happiest little princess.” My heart violently seized in my chest. Then, I heard the most chilling answer of this life, and the last one. Maisie’s small, clear voice was immediate and full of delight. “Yes! Maisie loves Mr. Alistair! Mr. Alistair should be my daddy!” In that moment, my heart ceased to beat. Graham seemed pleased. He let out a low, satisfied chuckle. “But, Maisie, as long as your current daddy is still here, Mr. Alistair can’t officially be your daddy, can he?” He paused, his voice like a snake uncoiling. “Look, Daddy seems to be struggling with that mask. Be a good girl, Maisie. Help Daddy take that tube off, and he won’t be in pain anymore. And Mr. Alistair can be your daddy forever, okay?” I snapped my eyes wide open! Through my blurred vision, I saw Maisie’s small, innocent face. She looked at Graham, then at me. And then, she reached out her hand, straight toward my oxygen mask! “Bad Daddy! You steal things! I don’t want you anymore!” she mumbled, her tone echoing the hatred she’d been brainwashed to feel. Watching that small hand reach for my lifeline, seeing the pure, unadulterated disgust in my daughter’s eyes, I lost the final flicker of strength to fight. My heart was cold ash. I had been reborn only to die by their hands again, but this time in a far more humiliating and agonizing manner. I felt the mask shift, and breathing became an immediate, desperate struggle. I was dying. And this time, there would be no coming back…

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My husband cheated on me one month after I found out I was pregnant. He insisted he’d cut it off clean immediately, and the entire family instantly rallied to his defense. “He’s learned his lesson, Anya. Everyone makes mistakes. He’s already fixed things. You’re pregnant, for heaven’s sake—how are you supposed to manage alone? Think of the baby.” I was trapped in a suffocating web of family pressure, everyone demanding I play the role of the forgiving, high-minded wife. But the sickening filth of his betrayal—it pressed down on me, driving me into a depression I couldn’t treat because of the pregnancy. The anxiety and insomnia were a constant, grueling battle I fought alone, venting my emotional chaos only through an obsessive, consuming need for cleanliness. Grant was always gentle, his voice low and soothing. “It’s alright, honey. Once the baby is here, things will be fine. I’m committed to making this right.” From then on, everything he did required a ritual of sanitation. He’d sterilize every dish he touched, wear gloves if he needed to hold my hand, and wrap himself up like a mummy to cook dinner, sweating profusely but never complaining. “It’s fine. I’m the one who messed up…” Until finally, after I quietly pointed out a single stray hair on the polished hardwood floor, he completely snapped. He ripped off his protective apron and gloves. “That’s enough! Yes, I cheated, and yes, I ended it instantly! Are you seriously going to punish me like this forever? Look at yourself, Anya! You don’t look like a normal person anymore! Am I that utterly disgusting to you?” He started deliberately trashing the house, smashing a ceramic bowl, kicking over the trash can—a calculated retaliation against the mysophobia that had become my defense mechanism. He knew he had the entire family in his corner, and he’d seen me compromise for the baby before. Now he was demanding I finally cave and let his betrayal fade into the past. My nerves instantly tightened. A sharp, unbearable cramp twisted my stomach, and blood, a horrifying amount of it, began pouring out between my legs. And yet, in that moment, I felt an inexplicable, chilling wave of relief. “Grant,” I said, my voice unnaturally steady. “We’re getting a divorce.” 1 The truth was, I couldn’t let it go. The barb was too deep. The thought that just one month into carrying his child, he couldn’t stand the sight of me and ran straight into his secretary’s arms. The disgust was a poison I couldn’t flush out. I had tried. I tried to forget, to convince myself to listen to our parents and become the magnanimous wife. But I couldn’t. Grant shoved the front door open, pulling on his jacket. “I can’t take this anymore! I’m a person, too! Fine, have your divorce!” He left without a second look, without even registering the darkening pool of blood on the floor. The five-month-old contractions finally overwhelmed me. I crumpled to the floor, dialing the hospital with shaking hands. Tears streamed down my face. I never imagined us reaching this point, where the sight of each other became a source of pure revulsion. A flash of memory: him in his youth, laughing, full of triumphant energy. He’d carried me into the wedding car while everyone cheered, promising me forever. We’d even left our vows at the most sacred spot in the valley, a promise that was now nothing but dust. The paramedic was astonished by the amount of blood as they lifted me onto the stretcher. She checked me, her expression grim and regretful. “I’m sorry, but we might not be able to save this baby. The blood loss is too severe. You need to prepare yourself.” My body was racked with pain, but my heart felt hollowed out. I remembered the hope that had come with this child, the stack of books, the countless articles, my desperate efforts to be a good mother. But… Forgive me. I had to be myself first. I still went through the agony of labor. Afterwards, drenched in sweat, I lay in the hospital bed, feeling like a corpse, next to the small bundle that had never had a chance to breathe. I endured the cremation alone. The ashes were so tiny, almost nothing left to gather. It was as if this little one was an understanding spirit, choosing the hardest exit to force my hand. I buried the remains in a beautiful, quiet park overlooking the ocean. During all of this, Grant never called. The hospital had followed procedure and contacted him, but he chose to vanish. He must have been too consumed by his own righteous anger. But what about me? I had nothing but my paralyzing fixation on cleanliness as an outlet. Otherwise, I felt like I was dissolving. So dirty… Why did he do this to me? After burying the baby, I walked straight to a law firm and requested a divorce agreement. Later, while I was back in the hospital for follow-up, my parents called. Their first thought wasn’t for my recovery, but to defend Grant. “Honey, why are you fighting again? You can’t be so stubborn. Marriage is compromise. Don’t keep bringing up divorce, it looks terrible.” I was too tired to argue. What was the point of clinging to a marriage that was already dead? They had used the baby to try and trap me for months; now they had no leverage left. So, I spoke calmly. “I miscarried. The baby is gone.” A long, thick silence followed before they finally hung up. That afternoon, Grant’s parents—my in-laws—rushed over. They looked at my now-flat stomach, their eyes filled with pity for the lost child, promising they would straighten Grant out. “That rotten boy, he’s nowhere to be seen! How could he not look after you?” “Anya, you rest easy. I’ll give that idiot a proper dressing down. You won’t see him until you’ve cooled off.” It was the same hollow routine. They pretended to be on my side, but every time they were just covering for their son, as if he were an innocent child and everything he did was forgivable. A massive wave of apathy washed over me. I wasn’t angry anymore. I was just done. I didn’t love him, and I refused to share a life with him. My voice was cold and steady. “I want a divorce.” Their expressions immediately changed. “Anya, don’t keep thinking that way. People need to compromise. Our son hasn’t been perfect, but I’ll make him change.” My mother-in-law muttered under her breath, “Sometimes women just need to stop making such a fuss.” A fuss? I gripped the edge of the hospital gown. My tone was frigid. “I am divorcing him, no matter what. Grant already agreed. You have an issue? Take it up with him.” Unbelieving, they called Grant. Still steaming from our fight, he simply agreed with my statement. “She’s right, Mom. Divorce. I can’t handle it. Do you know how much I’ve been degraded? I cheated, but I fixed it! I fired the secretary! What else do you want? Should I die and go back in time? I told her I was drunk, it was a mistake! It happened, we have to move on!” He hung up before they could even tell him about the miscarriage, completely dismissing the entirety of my suffering. How dare he play the victim? Cheaters are despicable. They don’t get to call themselves the ‘degraded’ ones. For the past five months—since the day I found out I was pregnant—my hormones had amplified everything. I suffered from depression and insomnia with no medication. While he slept soundly, I was struggling through morning sickness, crying, dealing with swollen feet, and losing my hair in clumps. I was a balloon filled with dark energy, constantly consumed by thoughts of ending it all. Everyone had hidden my medication for the sake of the baby. But what about me? I was a person, too. Who cared about me? And he has the audacity to complain, to call himself the suffering one. My parents arrived, too, demanding I maintain the marriage, just as they had demanded I get married in the first place. “Listen to me! You are not divorcing! Your father and I wouldn’t harm you!” They cared only for their image: a son-in-law who was successful, highly paid, and gave them “face” among their friends. I didn’t care. Looking at their self-serving faces, I smashed the glass of water on the bedside table. “Enough! From this moment on, I am responsible for my own life.” When they saw they couldn’t control me, they gave me the silent treatment, threatening to cut me off if I went through with the divorce. I ignored them. As soon as I was steady enough, I took the papers and went to his office.

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1 After my sister, the golden child of our family, died in an accident, my parents’ grief was a raw, open wound. But I had stumbled upon her anonymous online journal, and I knew the truth: she had faked her own death. I was about to show my parents, to end their suffering, when I overheard my mother’s choked whisper to my father. “The one who should be dead is still here, while the one with a future is gone.” Her voice cracked. “We poured everything into getting her a master’s degree, just waiting for her to help pay for her sister’s goddamn medical bills. What did I do to deserve a vampire for a daughter?” I froze outside their door. The vampire, the one who should be dead—that was me. I was born with cerebral palsy. The doctors told them to let me go. But they refused, my mom and dad, and they clawed their way through hell to raise me. My clumsy, uncoordinated limbs made me a target for bullies at school, and the taunts eventually festered into a crippling anxiety disorder. My medical bills were a black hole that swallowed every dollar they ever earned. We never had a single nice day. I was the anchor dragging this family to the bottom. Staring at their weary backs through the crack in the door, I made a silent promise. You’re right, Mom. The one who should be dead is me. I’ll be good. I’ll go. … Before the end, I looked at my sister’s journal one last time. She had posted an update. Faking my death feels like being reborn. No more digging through the trash for toilet paper just to save a few pennies for my sister’s treatments. So, it was because of me. Of course, it was. A single tear splattered onto the screen, blurring the words into an indistinct smear. I felt a wave of guilt so profound it almost drowned me, but beneath it, there was a strange, sharp sense of relief. She was free. For me, she had lived a life of quiet misery. She never wore new clothes, her sleeves always inches above her wrists, her pants too short. She was a walking collection of hand-me-downs—men’s shirts, women’s blouses, clothes meant for children and the elderly, none of them truly hers. Yet, she would always smile and plead with Mom. “It’s Christmas, can we please get Lily a new coat?” She never asked for a thing for herself. She was an angel of self-sacrifice. On the rare occasions we had meat, she would mimic our parents, carefully picking every lean piece from her plate and placing it in my bowl. She was so thin, a wisp of a girl, yet she carried me on her back all the way to school. Not for a day, not for a week. But for twelve years, through every scorching summer and bitter winter. When other kids called me a cripple, my gentle, quiet sister would transform into a lioness, fighting them with a ferocity that was terrifying to watch. From the day I was diagnosed, the scales of our parents’ love tipped completely in my favor. But Chloe never fought for their attention. She loved me just as much as they did, and she poured everything else she had into her studies. “I’ll get into a great university, Lily,” she’d promise, her eyes shining with determination. “I’m going to make life good for all of us.” To everyone, Chloe was our parents’ pride. She was the single, flickering flame of hope in our broken home. My hand trembled as I typed out a private message to her. “Chloe, thank you for loving me all these years.” “I’m so sorry you were stuck with a sister like me.” “I’m tired. I’m going to a place where I can finally rest.” “Come home, Chloe. Please.” My vision swam with tears, making the touchscreen unresponsive. I wiped it with my sleeve, my fingers clumsy, and closed the app. In my drawer was a bottle of sleeping pills, collected one by one over six long months. Finally, a lethal dose. Just before I swallowed them, I decided to leave two sentences for my parents. A final apology. “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry my life dragged you all into the mud.” “I can’t hold on anymore. I have to let go. Please, don’t cry.” I fought to keep my tears from staining the paper. There were a million things I wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. This was enough. I placed the note on my nightstand, where they couldn’t miss it. Then, without a second’s hesitation, I swallowed the entire bottle of pills. I pulled the covers over myself, found a comfortable position, and closed my eyes. Goodbye, Mom. Dad. Chloe. Goodbye forever. That night, my soul drifted through our silent apartment. The quiet was finally broken by the sound of the front door opening. “Lily? Are you hungry?” Mom’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she forced a cheerful tone. “I bought some chicken wings. I’ll make them just how you like.” 2 Just like always, she called out towards the room Chloe and I shared before heading straight for the kitchen. Dad was curled up on the sofa, shivering, a nasty flu rattling his chest with every cough. My heart ached looking at him—his hair now more white than black, his face a roadmap of worry, his body thin and frail beneath his tattered clothes. I could still remember when he was the most handsome man in the neighborhood. Mom poked her head out of the kitchen, her expression softening with concern. “You need to get some medicine. This family depends on you. You can’t afford to fall apart.” Dad didn’t open his eyes, just hugged himself tighter. “I’m fine.” He tried to stand, but his legs were weak. He shuffled towards their bedroom. “I’ll just bury myself in blankets. Sweat it out.” He lay down on their lumpy, worn-out mattress and pulled every heavy piece of clothing in the house on top of himself, a makeshift mountain of fabric. He mumbled something so quietly I almost missed it. “That money… is better spent on Lily’s medicine.” He let out a long, shuddering sigh. I floated beside his bed, tears I could no longer physically shed streaming down my face. As he drifted off to sleep, a muffled sob escaped his lips, a sound he tried to bury in his pillow so Mom and I wouldn’t hear. “Chloe… my brilliant, beautiful girl… how could this happen?” His voice was a broken whisper. “God, if you had to take one of my daughters… why did it have to be her?” I reached out to pat his back, but my hand passed right through him. “Dad, it’s okay,” I whispered, my voice lost to the air. “I’m gone now. You and Mom don’t have to suffer anymore. Maybe… maybe Chloe will come home.” He couldn’t hear me. He just lay there, his shoulders shaking with silent, repressed grief. He didn’t stop until Mom came in to tell him dinner was ready. He was a master at hiding his pain; she never suspected he’d been crying. “Not hungry. Just call Lily.” Mom sighed and walked toward my room. Pushing the door open, she saw me tucked under the covers. “Lily, time to eat. I made your favorite chicken wings.” Silence. I didn’t move. She tried again, her patience wearing thin. “Lily?” Still nothing. Suddenly, her frustration boiled over. “Are you listening to me? Or are you dead in there? I slave away for you day in and day out, and this is the thanks I get? Can’t you give me one moment of peace? Must you always be lying in bed like a useless lump?” Her voice rose with every word. “I’m talking to you! Do you hear me? The whole family is falling apart, and all you can do is sleep? It should have been you! Then I could die too, and we’d all finally be free!” The more she yelled, the more she broke. Tears streamed down her face, and she swiped at them angrily with the back of her hand. I rushed forward instinctively to hug her, but my arms closed on empty air. I could only watch, helpless, repeating the words she couldn’t hear. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so, so sorry.” I knew she didn’t hate me. Not really. It was my illness they hated, the relentless burden that had tormented them for twenty-six years. She turned and stalked out of the room, slumping into a chair at our rickety, three-legged dining table to weep. On the table sat three bowls of rice, a small plate with two glistening chicken wings, and a side of homemade pickles. The wings were for me. Mom only ever bought two. At first, the butcher would sneer at her. “Who buys just two chicken wings?” Mom would just offer a tight, embarrassed smile. After a while, he learned about our family’s situation. He never made a comment again. Sometimes, he’d even throw in some scallions and ginger for free. 3 When Chloe was still here, her eyes would practically bulge out of her head with longing for those wings, but she’d always force a smile and say, “You have them, Lily. I don’t really like them.” I asked her once, “Doesn’t it make you sad? That Mom and Dad love me more?” She had laughed. “Of course not. What’s there to be sad about? They give you more when it comes to food and things, sure. But they paid for my education, didn’t they? Getting me through school cost just as much, if not more. So no, I never felt it was unfair.” The memory of her sweet smile was a sharp pain in my chest. If it weren’t for my “vampire disease,” our family could have had a good life. Mom and Dad both worked two jobs—construction during the day, washing dishes at a restaurant at night. Together, they brought in almost five thousand dollars a month. But my physical therapy alone cost two thousand. And that was the cheap option. There were free state-funded programs, but Mom insisted the private clinic had better results. For twenty-six years, rain or shine, she took me there and picked me up. Then there was the anxiety and depression. My therapy sessions were a hundred dollars an hour, three or four times a week. Mom never batted an eye. And the medication on top of that… It all meant that when Chloe went to college, there was no money left for her living expenses. She had to work multiple jobs while studying full-time. Because of me, every single person in my family was trapped in their own private hell. I had tried to end it before. Several times. But each time, they had found me, saved me. This time, thank God, they were too late. I remember when I was little, my grandmother would take a bus for hours from her village to bring us fresh eggs from her farm. She saw how my illness was breaking her daughter, how it was grinding Mom down to nothing. One day, she couldn’t take it anymore. “You have two choices,” she told my mother, her voice trembling with a mixture of love and desperation. “Either you leave that child somewhere, or you leave your husband and remarry. You’re still young! Your life shouldn’t be over just because it’s begun! If you won’t feel sorry for yourself, then I’ll feel sorry for you! You are my flesh and blood!” Mom refused to listen. They had a terrible fight, and after that, my grandmother never visited again. Just like that, my mother lost her own mother, too. My thoughts drifted back to the present. Mom covered the plate of chicken wings, her own appetite gone. Before heading to bed, she stopped at my door. “The food is on the table. If you get hungry, get up and eat it yourself.” No response. This time, she didn’t get angry. She just turned and went to her room. The next morning, Dad’s flu was worse, but he still had to be at the construction site by six. He had no strength left, but he pushed himself anyway. I wanted to scream. I jumped in front of them, a frantic, invisible ghost. “Dad! Mom! Just pull back my blanket! Please! I’m already dead! You don’t have to work yourselves to death anymore! I’m begging you, just look!” Mom glanced at the untouched rice and chicken on the table and yelled towards my room. “Lily, what is this new tantrum? Why didn’t you eat last night? Your father and I are leaving for work. You get up and eat right now. I’ll be back at noon to take you to physical therapy, you hear me?” 4 I waved my arms wildly in front of her face. “Mom, just lift the blanket! I’m gone! You’re free!” Her old flip phone rang, and she paused to answer it. A woman’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Hey, it’s Sarah. I’ve got some good news for you.” My mother’s first instinct was always work. “Is there a job opening?” “No, not that. It’s… well, my friend’s son, he’s thirty-five and not married yet. He’s from a decent family, you know, just an ordinary guy. And I was thinking, with Lily’s condition, it’s not easy for her to find someone. Maybe we could set them up? That way, you and your husband would finally be free of the burden. You could start saving for your retirement. Let’s be honest, as long as Lily is with you, you’ll never have a day of peace. This is a good thing, someone willing to take her off your hands.” The color drained from my mother’s face. For a woman who was always so composed, her voice was pure venom. “You must have a lot of free time to be sticking your nose in my family’s business! Your daughter is the one nobody wants, you bitch! Who do you think you are? Stay the hell out of my life!” She slammed the phone shut, her hands shaking with rage. This wasn’t the first time. People had tried to set me up before. The suitors were always men with mental disabilities, developmental issues, or physical handicaps like my own. As long as a woman has a uterus, she has value, they’d say. She can always be married off. But my parents could never bear the thought of me being mistreated in someone else’s home, so they held on, bearing the unbearable. My heart ached for my mother. I wrapped my arms around her, a useless, spectral hug. Why couldn’t a woman this good have been blessed with two healthy daughters? She turned her anger towards my room. “Lily, for God’s sake, can’t you be more considerate? Stop with these moods! I know I’ve been distracted, but it’s because of your sister! I’ve been out of my mind with grief! Don’t be angry anymore, okay? Or you’ll make me angry, too! I’m leaving for work! And if that food is still on the table when I get back, you’ll have me to answer to!” I stood before her, my ghostly tears flowing freely. She saw nothing. At noon, as precise as an alarm clock, Mom returned. She hurried into the kitchen, shouting as she cooked. “Lily, time for the rehab center! Get ready!” She stir-fried some vegetables with practiced ease, the entire process taking less than five minutes. The rice was already in a thermos from the morning, ready to take with us for me to eat at the center. When she came out and saw last night’s meal still sitting untouched on the table, her temper flared. She stormed into my room, her face a mask of impatience. A flicker of joy went through me. Finally. She was going to find me. “What is wrong with you? Your moods are unbearable! I treat you like a queen, and for what? You ignore me when I talk, you refuse to eat! Are you trying to kill me?” She grabbed my shoulder and started to shake me, her frustration mounting with each movement. “What is it? Lily! Answer me! What are you so angry about this time? Who upset you now? Can’t you have a little mercy on me? I’m exhausted!” She was at her breaking point. Overwhelmed with anger and despair, she slapped my backside twice over the blankets. “Talk to me! I said, talk to me, do you hear?!” Her face was flushed, her breathing ragged. “Mom! Mom! Lily’s trying to kill herself! Stop her!” A familiar, frantic voice cut through the air. Thank God. Chloe was back. Mom froze, thunderstruck, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at my sister. Chloe didn’t have time to explain. She rushed to pull back my blankets, and in that instant, the world stopped for them both.

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I went to the Board of Education to report our Grade Head. She used excessive corporal punishment, and I almost died. School became a living hell. I became a target for everyone, because I made them lose an “experienced” and “good” teacher. When he came back, I thought my dawn had arrived. I didn’t expect him to be even crueler. He pinched my jaw, gritting his teeth. “You disgusted me for so long. Can’t handle a little revenge?” Later, he held my waist tight, pulling me forcefully into his arms. Begging bitterly in my ear. “Stop playing with me, okay?” 1 The hallway between classes was full of laughter, sunlight splashing on every youthful face. I was the only one out of place, head lowered, walking with heavy steps towards the principal’s office. Knock, knock, knock. No answer. I pushed the door open out of habit. The scene before me was as tense as a public shaming. The Dean of Students was surrounded by teachers from every subject in our grade. His square face, usually stern, looked exceptionally irritable today. His glasses slid down his bulbous nose a bit. Seeing me, his eyebrows shot up, eyes glaring, voice piercing the entire office. “You’re Chloe Vance? Impressive. Do you know your Grade Head can’t work here anymore because of you?” The teachers around him knew how to read the room, following suit, wishing they could kill me with their eyes. I kept my head down, picking at my fingers, letting him scream hysterically. “Mrs. Hayes was hired by our school for a huge sum! Experienced, with a college acceptance rate of 70% in her classes! And you, you ruined it all. All our efforts wasted.” The Dean took a deep breath and exhaled, turning his back on me, too lazy to look. Seeing this, other teachers chimed in immediately, leaving no gaps, cursing me as if I were an unforgivable sinner. “Exactly. What teacher doesn’t punish students? Making a mountain out of a molehill.” “So capable, don’t come to school then. Who would dare to manage you in the future?” I don’t know how long it lasted. The Dean ended it with, “You’re hopeless.” He waved his hand at me, spitting out, “Get out.” That tone— Like shooing away a dog. Maybe they saw I was unresponsive, or maybe they were tired of scolding. I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to know. Just like they only cared that Mrs. Hayes was fired under pressure from above, and couldn’t even be bothered to mention that I lay in the ICU for a whole week. 2 The atmosphere inside was oppressive and chaotic. As soon as I stepped out, I greedily inhaled the fresh air drifting freely outside. Suddenly, a deafening boy’s voice rang out from the office next door, echoing into the hallway. “Liam, catch!” Almost instantly, my nerves were pulled. I turned my head subconsciously. A boy caught a book flying towards him. He smirked at the office next door, looking triumphant. With that reckless and arrogant energy, I immediately pieced him together with the person deep in my memory who always grinned at me. 3 Five years ago, his family of three moved into the apartment above mine. Liam found me standing alone at my door late at night without a key. Without a word, he dragged me to his house for dinner. My mom left, my dad was busy working. I became a regular at his family’s dinner table. Although I was a year older, I was sensitive and introverted. He was a social butterfly who could chat up a dog. Thanks to his tireless thick skin, for the first time ever, I had a real friend. He was exceptionally good to me. Sometimes he would give up playing basketball with a group of friends just to walk home with me, the loner. So rumors started spreading in school that he liked me. The short-haired girls who liked to form cliques couldn’t sit still. They cornered me after school, mocking and sarcastic. “Look in the mirror. Do you think you deserve him?” “Who gave you the confidence?” I dared not conflict, because there was no one behind me. To put it bluntly, no backer. I lowered my head and tried to leave. It was Liam who grabbed me, followed by a group of boys who just finished playing ball. His shirt front was slightly damp, holding a basketball, a lazy smile on his lips. “I think you look like a potato, but aren’t you quite confident too?” “You!” The short-haired girl turned red with anger at being insulted by a boy younger than her, unable to utter a sentence for a long time. “You you you, you what?” “Go home and eat your brains, you can’t even speak properly.” In those days, I experienced the security of being carefully guarded, although brief. 4 Finally having the chance to see him again, I wanted to tell him all the unspeakable grievances. I frantically contacted students from the middle school section, but they told me. In the entire ninth grade… There wasn’t even anyone with the last name Sterling.

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